


Here, With Me

by r0tkappchen



Series: Above and Under [4]
Category: EXO
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, what even is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 04:52:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13287396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0tkappchen/pseuds/r0tkappchen
Summary: In which soldier Jongin needs Kyungsoo when he crumbles beneath the weight of haunting memories.





	Here, With Me

The blaring heat washes over him and the members of the troop relentlessly, but they have no time to beg the Sun for its mercy nor pay the thick shin of sweat on their skin any attention. The suspense hangs in the hair like a veil, the tension a solid weight on their shoulders as the breeze picks up just slightly to carry with it the natural scent of the forest, tinted with something foreign that only serves to heighten the anticipation.

 

His Commander stands a few feet aways up front, leaning against the large bark of a tree. The man's eyes dart around, on high alert, as all the others are, as he scans the place in quick calculations and after a minute or two of speculating, signals for the troop to move forward.

 

The leader is a trustworthy man. Wise, reliable, a man of his words. He'd listen to the man normally, and as a subordinate, wishes to follow in his footsteps. He has full trust in him. But not today. Not today.

 

Jongdae beside him makes to step sideways around the boulder they're covering themselves against, but halts when he takes note of the hand clasped around forearm, just above his elbow. The grip on the older's rifle doesn't lessen any but the look in his eyes is inquiring, a stark contrast of his own determined ones.

 

The troop is moving – some crawling in the mud and undergrowth like snakes, some creeping amidst bushes like wild felines; but he doesn't relent, staring into the eyes of his teammmate intently. The feeling in his gut is ruthlessly convincing, pure instinct telling him that something is just _wrong_. He subtly shakes his head – just a light lilt to the side – in hopes that Jongdae gets the message, that Jongdae believes him.

 

The reaction he gets isn't what he wants, however, when the man only frowns and glances at their distancing group urgently. They have to stay together, is what Jongdae seems to be trying to say, and he purses his lips when the man yanks his arm away harshly. _I've got no time for your games._

 

Jongdae trudges forward on lithe legs, agility a result of years of training and serving. The man takes cover behind the tree Sergeant stood against earlier.

 

He's still crouching low behind the rock.

 

A rustle.

 

A thunk.

 

_But hyung._

 

“Brace yourselves!!”

 

_This is not a game._

 

The grenade goes off and he knows a soldier or two don't make it by the blood-curdling screams that pierce the original silence of the woods. The ground shakes beneath his feet but he doesn't lose balance when he gets up, eyes wide, as he charges towards where Jongdae had previously stood, just hoping that the other isn't too late.

 

Jongdae isn't there. Instead, he's off behind another tree as he fires away, the sound of his gun joining the symphony of the shooting taking place. He doesn't spare a second before he's on the dance floor, aiming his gun in all the directions he visualises his enemies are in and shooting like there's no tomorrow. There might never _be_ a tomorrow.

 

He grits his teeth. No, there's no reason for him to think like that, he has his parents, his sisters waiting for him. And his other half, his family. At home.

 

A sudden, unfamiliar sound booms and a desperate yell of “Duck!!” has him belatedly realises just how dangerous his position is, no longer behind the tree but amidst lumps of shruberry instead, and the leap he makes is succesful as the large thing whoozes behind him with a swish and explodes meters away.

 

 _Oh lords_ , he realises in unrestrained fright. _Missile guns._

 

The enemy fires again and he ducks, covering his head. The explosion sends soil and rock and pieces of barks flying everywhere, and amidst the fog his sergeant screams to _retreat, retreat, retreat!_ , and he's about to do just that when his eyes land on a figure just before he turns.

 

“Hyung!” he scrambles towards the older male.

 

“Squirt,” is all Jongdae manages to grunt before he lets out a groan of pain, clutching at his thighs – the knees and what's left of below thoroughly covered in blood.

 

He tries not to panic, and hauls the shorter male up, carrying him with his hands supporting his back and the back of his thighs, making a run for it. He runs, and runs, and is just about to thank the heavens for not sustaining any sort of injury when an echo of a gunshot is heard and a flash of pain registers on his right shoulder.

 

“Argh!!”

 

“Fuck!” The male in his arms curses, and he wills himself to continue despite the stutter in his steps before. Jongdae pulls out the handgun from his belt and aims it behind him, shooting as best as he could with the constant motion.

 

The running male yelps again when a bullet lodges itself onto his shoulder blade, and he staggers, and then another comes again to take residence in his other shoulder. The weight in his arms is too much and he falls to the ground, bringing Jongdae with him who grunts painfully at the impact with the hard, unforgiving floor of the forest.

 

He makes to stand up again but Jongdae pushes himself off. “Run,” he says, eyes resolute.

 

“Hyung—”

 

“Fucking _run_ , squirt I swear to the ninth lord!!”

 

The forces behind are coming closer. Jongdae gives him one last push but he doesn't budge and makes to pick him back up, but a bullet comes barelling into his hyung's head. Straight to the brain.

 

He doesn't scream, doesn't cry in anguish, and he bolts between the trees. The tears prick at the corners of his eyes as the image of wide-eyed, lifeless Jongdae pops up into his mind but his feet keeps moving, running like his hyung told him to.

 

The light shines between the tress at the far end, and he knows it's a bad idea to run out into the meadows in his current situation, but a voice has him rooted to the ground.

 

No, no. He must've heard it wrong, there's no way—

 

“~~!!”

 

His blood runs cold.

 

Goosebumps prickle at his skin and he breaks into cold sweat, his breathing heavy. _No_.

 

He swivels, and his boots brings him into the open field. _Please, please, this cannot be_. And—

 

And he sees it.

 

Sees _him_.

 

Standing in the middle of a sea of little buttercups, like an angel fallen from heaven – out of place and so hopelessly lost, face contorted in pure confusion.

 

His throat goes dry and his muscles cramp. “Kyungsoo,” he breathes; the only thing that's able to escape his mouth.

 

Even from a distance, the male miracalously catches on, turning towards him and with an expression that breaks out into relief – twisting his own heart in return. The petite one makes to move but he is faster, racing across the field towards the other, grabbing him by the shoulders.

 

“What are you doing here?” he almost yells in frantic, because Kyungsoo shouldn't be here, in this place, this warzone.

 

His tone sends the other into a panic mode as well. He wraps his arms around his stomach. “You— I—”

 

A bomb goes off by the edge of the forest and he shields the smaller with his body, enclosing around him like a safe coccoon. Kyungsoo whimpers against his neck, and when the impact has died down just the slightest bit, he lifts his head up; his priority now to bring his partner to safety.

 

Only, the tress surrounding the field are all in flames.

 

 _No_.

 

“It burns.”

 

 _This can't be_.

 

He pulls the smaller closer. “I'll get us out of here.”

 

_..Is it possible? A way out?_

 

He feels Kyungsoo shifts in his hold. He looks down, only to be met with wide, fearful eyes.

 

_It has to be._

 

It has to be, because they need to go home, eat their next meal together and catch up on the drama series going on at 7 everyday, to go to bed side by side and spend the rest of their lives—

 

A snipper resounds.

 

He reacts a second too late.

 

The smaller body jolts harshly in his arms, and his own eyes widen. Another near-silent click, and Kyungsoo jolts again.

 

He comes back to his sense and twists their bodies away from the direction of the source, making it as though they're both shot and putting the sight of his blood-drenched back to good use. The other male in his embrace frail and quivering in his hold. The hands he has on the smaller's back are soaked in blood – they had made it to the male's heart.

 

His hands shakes violently as he places the shorter gently on his lap to craddle his upper body despite his stiff fingers. Kyungsoo looks up at him with eyes not quite as wide as before, now hooded, eyelids brought down by his weakened state.

 

“You're going to be okay, you're going to be okay.”

 

His first lie.

 

Kyungsoo's face is sickly pale, as he's loosing all the blood, but his lips are painted red when he coughs out some more of the thick liquid. He runs a bloodied hand through the smaller's hair.

 

“I-I'm scared.”

 

“Shh, baby, shh, don't speak, I'm here for you. With you.”

 

Kyungsoo reaches for his hand, and interlaces his fingers with his own before he brings them to rest onto his stomach.

 

A sob wracks through his body, and it makes its way out of his mouth. The first tear drop wets Kyungsoo on the nose.

 

“Kyungsoo, no,” he whimpers pathetically. “Don't.”

 

His partner only gazes at him, but the fear has toned down to give way for something more tender; adoration. Love.

 

“You don't look at me like that,” he heaves, “not now, don't you—don't you _dare_.”

 

Their interlocked hands press further into Kyungsoo's stomach, courtesy of the smaller. He tells his lover to just _stop_ because he has no right to act as if he's going to leave, but the corner of his beloved's lips twitched – an attempt to smile in the face of--of something inevitable, though he can't stand it and crashes their parted lips together.

 

The blood attacks his tastebuds to leave a coppery taste in his tongue, but he doesn't mind, the softness of Kyungsoo's lips the exact same as he's first felt it years ago. They don't move. Their lips stay sealed, angle awkward and messy, but the sappy thing they call the spark is there, full of emotions and that's all they need. But then the short fingers between his loss their grip, as the hand ever so slowly goes limp as they lose strength, the lashes brushing against his skin fluttering weakly. He feels the life, once so bright and full of energy like a flower blooming under the sun, creeping up the form in his tightening hold – he refuses to let go. The mouth against his moves weakly, as if to say something but he doesn't give Kyungsoo a chance, screaming and crying out in heartbreaking agony against heart-shaped lips.

 

“ _Jongin_.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Jongin!”

 

His eyes snap open and he bolts to sit upright like a spring just released from hold. He's heaving; mouth parted as he greedily sucks in huge gulps of precious air, throat parched dry – most likely from screaming. Both his hand flails, feeling around frantically, but he's not checking on his body. He's finding that one figure, one soul—

 

A hand catches his own left one and he deflates visibly, closing his eyes at the waves of relief that floods his system. The soft skin, the fitting size, he reognizes this. He knows he's holding the small hand in his own rough one a tad bit too tight but the other doesn't voice anything, instead bringing a free hand up to rub the taller's back.

 

Kyungsoo doesn't say anything, because he knows. It's routine.

 

Routine, just like how Jongin, after a few agonizing, silent minutes, will slowly but reluctantly release his hand in opt of pressing the heels of his palms againt his closed eyes. How he'll get off from bed, and says, “I'll go get you some water, okay?” and Jongin won't say anything and let him go for a while.

 

It doesn't take long, the soft pitter-patter of feet hobbling back into the room a strange sort of peace that calms his heart. By then Jongin has scooted back so that he rests against the headboard, and Kyungsoo passes him the glass of water of which he chugs down in a matter of seconds. Kyungsoo takes it from him and places it on the bedside table.

 

The bed dips as Kyungsoo carefully climbs back up on top of it, about to settle beside Jongin to snuggle up next to him to stay awake with him – just like everytime these nights come, despite how much the taller chastises him about the lack of sleep – when a big hand encloses around his wrist. “Jongin?”

 

Jongin tugs at him softly. His eyes are still closed, throat bobbing, but Kyungsoo gets the message. That's how things work between them oftenly, where they need nothing more than simple body language or gestures to convey what they want.

 

The mattress dips in places again as Kyungsoo crawls over. Soon enough, a pair of legs are straddling his hips, his lover's rear resting on his lap. He wastes no time looping his arms around the smaller's waist to bring him just a tad bit closer. He doesn't need personal space right now; not that they ever had one when it comes to each other. A smaller hand comes up to run through his hair, running through the strands lovingly, fingertips just lightly pressing against his scalp that would've had him purring if he was a cat. He feels a palm wipe at his sweaty forehead, and he tilts his head back, the attention overwhelming, even more so when a pair of soft lips replaces the said hand.

 

“I'm sweaty,” Jongin mumbles, “and smelly. You shouldn't kiss me.”

 

Kyungsoo snorts against his forehead and usually he'd say it's quite the ugly sound, but now it just bring a quirk to his lips. “Like I care. You know I don't mind it with you, Jongin-ah.”

 

The taller doesn't reply. He leans forward and presses his own lips to the inviting neck he knows is in front of him, revelling in the soft giggle Kyungsoo lets out when he grazes his teeth lightly against a ticklish spot. He tightens his hold, trying to hug the male closer but of course, something below obstructs their way.

 

Jongin keeps one hand on the small of Kyungsoo's back and pulls back the other – only to bring it between them and lay his palm flat on the potruding belly.

 

Kyungsoo is so far along that it's only a matter of weeks before their new family member arrives. The thin fabric of the shirt Kyungsoo's wearing – his, no doubt – does nothing to mask the heat radiating from the large baby bump, and Jongin can't help himself as he rubs his palm slowly over his lover's stomach. He feels Kyungsoo smiling against his forehead at the notion and he revels in it all, pressing his face further against the smaller's throat to inhale his scent; a mixture of their body wash and Kyungsoo's own natural, oddly sweet smell. He hopes his scent sticks to the smaller too.

 

The hand still combing through his locks, the kiss pressed to his temple, the warmth of the body huddled close to his own – they all bring him waves after waves of sensation, crashing into him unrelentingly and Jongin is drowning. It's all relief, happiness, content, and so much more molded into one, at the prospect that Kyungsoo is still here with him, breathing and alive and still showering him with so much love. The breath he takes then comes with a shudder as he kisses the pulsing vein beneath the soft skin of his partner.

 

The hand stroking him stops once it reaches the hairline on his nape. Two fingers press circles into his skin soothingly and Jongin almost whimpers when Kyungsoo's lip leaves him. “Love,” Kyungsoo whispers, concern evident in his voice. “Jongin, what's wrong?”

 

He shakes his head stubbornly. “Nothing. You know it's just the dream,” he hopes Kyungsoo doesn't catch the shaking of his hand against his belly, “Just—just let me hold you, angel.”

 

Kyungsoo is having none of it. He doesn't pull away from Jongin's hold yet he lifts his free hand to hold the side of Jongin's face, pulling it away from his neck and bringing to up just slightly. “Jongin..look at me.”

 

Jongin lets out a breathless chuckle at the irony, but he complies nonetheless. The grip on the small of Kyungsoo's back is firm as he peels his eyelids open to reveal grey irises, unseeing eyes staring straight to where he supposes Kyungsoo's own dark orbs should be.

 

Kyungsoo's thumb rubs soothingly over his cheekbone. “You were screaming my name,” he says slowly. “You..you never really called me like that before during your episodes.”

 

The slight shift in his expression doesn't seem to go unnoticed by the smaller when he feels the fingers on his nape massaging in firmer presses. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out – he doesn't know what to say.

 

He feels the warm breath on his cheek before he feels the press of lips against one corner of his mouth, but it disappears just as fast as it had come. “It's different this time, isn't it,” a statement. “Please tell me all about it, Jongin.”

 

Jongin swallows the lump in his throat. The hand carressing his face tells him to take his time, and he knows Kyungsoo isn't forcing him. It's hard for him, Kyungsoo knows as much, but he wants to.

 

“I..I was—” he starts, pausing to clear his throat. “I was on that battlefield with the troop, in the forest..”

 

“Jongdae, he—I held him back but—because I had a bad feeling, and he didn't listen—and then there were guns and bombs and missiles—I tried to help him but he pushed me away and he got shot..”

 

His lips are quivering, tears brimming in his eyes. Kyungsoo strokes his hair incessantly, whispering reassurances. “Hey, hey. Jongdae-hyung didn't die, okay? He's over at his house down the street with his family now. He got shot here and there but he made it okay? You saved him. You helped him, he survived. If you want, we can go vis—”

 

“And then I ran, and ran, and ran, and then a heard a voice; _your_ voice,” the hand in his hair ceased its movement. His breath hitches, “You were there, in an open space, for god's sake, I—you—”

 

“Shh. Hush, Jongin, you can stop now.”

 

“I came to you and held you. God, Kyungsoo; I was so fucking _scared,_ ” the tears spill over, the raw fear consuming him whole. “We were trapped in a fire and—and then—you were—I didn't fucking _see_ —”

 

He's full out sobbing now, voice cracking and he can't bring himself to describe what happened, the words coming out in a jumbled mess of incoherency. “There was—shot—blood and—you—my arms—stomach—the b- _baby—_ ”

 

Kyungsoo pulls his head to the juncture between the smaller's neck and collarbone – uncaring of the awkward position. He cries, the walls collapsing completely, revealing the vulnerable Jongin beneath the strong and admired retired member of the army.

 

Kyungsoo doesn't tell him to stop crying this time. Neither does he tell him to hush. He lets his husband crumble in his arms, lets his own hand clasp at Jongin's wrist to bring it underneath his shirt.

 

“I'm alive,” Kyungsoo whispers instead, “I'm here with you, and no one is taking me – _us_ – away from you.”

 

Jongin only sobs louder. In return, Kyungsoo hugs him tighter.

 

And they stay like that for the next few minutes, which soon progresses into roughly an hour. Their hold on each other doesn't let up.

 

It's not until the cries has turned into little sniffles that Kyungsoo leans back, detaching himself from Jongin's head to inspect his face. Jongin feels palms smudging away the wetness on his cheeks and later on even that of under his nose. He manages a small smile. “You have snot on your hand now.”

 

He can't see but he knows by heart that Kyungsoo is smiling. The other doesn't answer him, instead, leaning in to kiss both his eyelids. He feels the urge to cry again.

 

The tears apparently are stubborn enough to come out to stain Kyungsoo's lips. “Don't cry just from my kisses, they're supposed to make you feel better,” the one in his lap grumbles, “You big baby.”

 

He croaks out a soft, barely audible chuckle. “But it's exactly because they made me feel better.”

 

It's quiet for a while before Kyungsoo speaks up again. “You won't..” he sighs, “you didn't lose me, Jongin, and you aren't going to. Not anytime soon.”

 

“I hope so.”

 

“You should _know_ so,” he presses the hand on his baby bump firmer against his skin. “Now hear me out, okay?” He cups Jongin's jaws, “The war is over months ago, and you came back to me, like you promised. And I waited here, at our home, with your favourite homemade chicken soup, like I promised. We fulfilled our promises, didn't we?”

 

He nods. “We did.”

 

“And we're both – we're _three_ – alive and ready to start a family life,” he urges the hand on his baby bump to move, to help Jongin _feel_. “You returned home with a bandage over your eyes, and I wailed. Do you remember?”

 

“Of course I remember,” His lips quiver, and he hopes Kyungsoo doesn't chastise him should the tears betray him again. “How could I not?”

 

“Yeah. So I cried; because I was so happy that you came back to me. It doesn't matter that you can't see anymore – it helps that you don't have to see me all fat like a whale,” Kyungsoo yelps a bit when Jongin pinches his bare side. “All that matters that you're here. And when I told you at that moment that I was three months pregnant you lifted me up.”

 

“And cried,” he frowns.

 

Kyungsoo laughed a little, “And your eyes weren't fully healed so it burned, as you said, so we had to go see the doctor.”

 

“Soo,” he sighs, “why are we talking about this all of a sudden?”

 

There's a pause, but he feels the stare. Kyungsoo is probably examining his face, and he somehow feels that smile again. If only he could witness the beautiful sight.

 

“Because,” he starts, his voice soft like cotton, “I want you to remember the day you came home. I want to remind you that you did return to your family, _us,_ your husband and your child.” He feels warm lips pressed to his forehead once again and he closes his eyes. “To remind you that I wasn't on the battlefield. That I was, am, alive, carrying baby as I greeted you at the door beneath that hideous clock dad gave us for our wedding. That those things you see in your sleep are just nightmares, taunting you of a false past.”

 

Their noses brush when Kyungsoo rests his forehead against Jongin's. “You made it, I made it, we made it through the hard times. We're not apart anymore, we're not in war anymore. We're here, living, happy and in joy in our home, on our bed. You might not feel so much in peace some nights, like tonight just now, but I'll always be there too chase those horrid demons away.”

 

He holds Kyungsoo close. Kyungsoo is, indeed, here with him. Kyungsoo hadn't left him. And even if he's rendered blind after the rough days, they're together, safe and sound, and that's all that counts.

 

This time it's him who initiates action, as he leans in to connect their lips. Kyungsoo giggles against his mouth when the bunch of traitors he calls tears mix into their liplock, and he smiles in response at the quiet sound.

 

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

 

“A gazzillion times,” Kyungsoo angles his head better, “And I love you back.”

 

The kick against his hand on Kyungsoo's stomach interrupts them and they laugh.

 

“And you too, baby.”

 

 

 

\- - -

 

“Good morning, love.”

 

“Well good morning to you too. My back hurts now.”

 

“Tell that to my thighs. Which you sat on last night, by the way.”

 

“...Jongin are you telling me that I'm fat.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not good at this /weeps


End file.
